


Champagne Showers

by stjaninaro



Series: Behind The Wheel [2]
Category: Depeche Mode, Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Still outrageously self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 04:16:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjaninaro/pseuds/stjaninaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alan finds he just can't stay away from Sebastian, no matter the cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Champagne Showers

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ in November 2011.   
> Thought the LMFAO song was fitting as the title as RBR always played them after the races that season :)

**Monaco. May 28 th, 2011.**  
   
“Well well well, look who it is. Back for more are we?”  
   
Throwing a glance over his shoulder Alan turns with a smile to greet the widely grinning face of Christian Horner. He clasps his hand in a friendly handshake, smile widening as Christian reaches up to pat him on the arm.  
   
“Christian,” he returns the gesture. “How are you doing?”  
   
“I’m doing very well, and I hear you’re doing pretty well for yourself too.”  
   
Alan nods, his smile turning to one of self-satisfaction. “Pretty well,” he agrees. “Congrats on Pole, again. Six out of six isn’t bad.”  
   
Christian laughs. “The season has been good for us so far. Seb’s been doing a fantastic job.”  
   
“That he has. I’ve been watching.”  
   
“Ah your son finally converted you then? Or was it our World Champ that did that?” Christian asks slyly.  
   
Alan takes a moment to answer, his thoughts returning to the last race –and his first –that he’d attended. Stan was here with him again, and Paris had decided to join them, swayed by the glitz and glamour that surrounded the world famous Monaco Grand Prix, the jewel in the Formula 1 calendar. His smile, when he turns back to Christian, is tight, his lips drawn into a thin line.  
   
“A little of both, I suppose,” he answers, eventually, his eyes scanning the crowd for a pair of dancing blue eyes that he’s almost afraid to find. “A little of both.”  
   
Christian claps a hand on his shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly, and nods. “I’ll leave you to it; sponsors to ply and bosses to appease, you know the score.”  
   
“I do,” Alan clasps his hand again, and then Christian is gone, disappearing into the throng.  
   
He studies the room again, half keeping an eye on his children, under the watchful gaze of Britt, and still searching for that accent and that boy. Paris appears at his side, threading her arm through his elbow and giving him a searching look.  
   
“Dad? Are you ok? You’ve been glaring at everyone for a while now.”  
   
Alan glances down at her, startled to find that she’s right. He softens his gaze, wrapping his arm around her. “Sorry, sweetheart. I was just thinking.”  
   
She shoots him a doubtful look but says nothing, just leaning into his embrace, glad to accept her fathers rarely offered affection. She joins him in silent perusal of the room, allowing the constant hum of the many and varied conversations to wash over them.  
   
“Oh my God, is that Geri Halliwell?”  
   
Watching his daughter dive into the crowd, Alan stifles a sigh. What kind of a monster has he raised? A Spice Girl for crying out loud! He thought he’d brought her up with more taste than that. He shakes his head, taking a long sip of champagne. Stan and Britt are still over by the edge of the barge, Stan leaning out over the barrier and waving to the rich and the beautiful on their yachts.  
   
He jumps at the light tap on his shoulder.  
   
“Christian said you were here, but I didn’t believe him.”  
   
Alan’s heart leaps in his chest at the softly lilting accent, and he spins around. “Sebastian!”  
   
Laughing, Seb wraps him in a warm embrace, his arms lingering around him a little longer than is strictly necessary. Alan can’t find it in himself to mind too much, the sheer joy and affection in the young German’s eyes completely undoing his reserve. Alan takes a step back and looks him over, gauging his newfound maturity and confidence. This isn’t the same boy he’d so easily manhandled those few months ago; there’s a gravity and an air of assurance about him now that reminds Alan a little of himself.  
   
“Congratulations doesn’t seem enough to cover the last few months for you,” Alan says with a smile. “But I’ll say it anyway.”  
   
“Thank you,” Seb replies, his eyes fixed on Alan’s face. “You have been busy too, lots of touring I hear.”  
   
“Just a couple of dates here and there. Only a few more to go now, and then we’re done. You should come to a show, we’re doing one in Leipzig in June, June 12th I believe-”  
   
“Ah,” Seb interrupts with a disappointed frown. Alan feels his heart clench as the excited gleam in his eyes dies away. “We’ll be racing in Canada that weekend. Is that your only other concert? I’ve been trying to get to one, but you keep seeming to have them on race weekends.”  
   
“Yeah, we’re doing a festival in London on the- Oh, crap,” Alan grimaces in apology. “I think that’s a race weekend too.”  
   
“Damn,” Sebastian looks so sad it takes all of Alan’s willpower not to gather him into a warm hug and drive away all his demons. “I should have tried harder to get to one before.”  
   
“No, no, don’t be silly. It’s my fault, I should have-”  
   
Sebastian interrupts with a loud laugh, and Alan looks at him, blinking in confusion.  
“Look at the pair of us,” Seb says, wiping away a tear of amusement. “We’re like schoolgirls. ‘Oh it’s my fault, no, it’s mine’. Ha! It is just unlucky, no?”  
   
Alan has to laugh, he’s right. It is a bit pathetic, two grown men squabbling over something that’s really out of their control for the most part. It’s not like Alan could schedule a show especially for Sebastian, that would just be too self-indulgent, and expensive.  
   
It takes him a moment, but Alan suddenly realises he’s nervous. Seb smiles again and his heart threatens to flutter right out of his chest. He swallows hard, glancing over to his girlfriend. Nothing. Turning back to Seb, catching the bright twinkle in those blue eyes, he melts, and he now knows he’s in serious trouble.  
   
He licks his suddenly dry lips. “So, how were the models yesterday?”  
   
Seb looks confused for only a moment before his lips curl into a sly grin. “You heard about that?”  
   
“Saw it, mate. Looked like fun.”  
   
“You’ve been here since yesterday?” Seb frowns, his lips pouting now. “Why am I only seeing you now?”  
   
It’s like it’s only been minutes rather than months since they last saw each other; the easy flow of the conversation, the teasing half glances, and the sheer warmth between them belying the fact that this is only the second time they’ve ever met. It’s unusual for Alan to be so open, and simply friendly, with someone so new to him, but he can’t help it. Seb feels like a friend, or something more, considering their past encounter.  
   
“Well, you’ve been in a car for most of the day...” Alan says slowly, teasing an embarrassed neck rub from his companion. “...and I didn’t think you’d appreciate being taken away from your models.”  
   
“Agh,” Seb waves his hand dismissively. “They weren’t for me, just a photoshoot for some jeans.”  
   
Alan makes a show of looking over Seb’s team shirt for the name of any jeans companies that might sponsor the team. He looks up with a dark smile, finger lingering over the embroidered patch. “Pepe Jeans,” he says confidently, voice dropping to a low murmur that Seb isn’t sure if he’s meant to hear or not. “You’re still quite the slut aren’t you?”  
   
Seb flushes a deep red, his cheeks exploding in a rush of colour. He has to close his eyes to block out the sudden flood of images; Alan pinning him to a dirty concrete wall, ripping his overalls down past his knees. He can almost feel his own teeth embedding themselves in his wrist all over again. He shudders delicately, eyes moving slowly to meet Alan’s darkening irises. They simply stare at one another, the rest of the world disappearing in the hazy lust that’s gathering around them like a shield. It’s just them.  
   
“Sebastian!”  
   
They’re jolted out of their own private world by the loud shout, Seb lurching forwards and they almost bump noses. Alan holds out a hand to steady him, his fingers clutching his biceps like a lifeline. Their eyes meet, and Alan nods slightly, a bare tilt of his head that Seb immediately understands. He reaches into his pocket, taking out his phone and pretending to check it. Hidden safely behind it, where only Alan can see, is his keycard, the name of his hotel and the room number clearly visible in the corner.  
   
Alan’s lip curls into a half smirk and Seb grins in return, stepping back and breaking the contact between them. The whole thing has only taken a few seconds. Seb slips his hand into Alan’s larger one, shaking it firmly before he turns and walks away. Alan watches him go, his heart fluttering madly in his chest, but he doesn’t look back.  
   
***  
   
It’s just after midnight when Alan slips out of bed. Careful not to disturb Britt, he quietly pulls on his jeans and a shirt and heads for the door, heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. There’s no question as to what he’s doing; they’d both known it would happen since the second they’d set eyes on each other earlier that day.  
   
It’s not luck that they happen to be staying in the same hotel.  
   
Alan silently opens the door into the adjoining bedroom in their suite –if Britt wakes up he can say he was just checking on Stan and Paris. And he does just that, throwing a glance over both beds to make sure his children are still tucked up safe where he left them. Satisfied, he creeps to the main door and slips out into the brightly lit corridor.  
   
Breathing a sigh of relief, he wipes his slightly sweaty palms on his thighs and presses the button for the lift. The doors open with a quiet chime and he steps inside, leaning back against the rail as he ascends to Sebastian’s floor. His leg won’t stop twitching, all his pent up nerves and lust channelled into the one uncontrollable movement. The lift chimes once more and the door swishes open. He gets out, his footsteps quick and eager as he moves down the corridor.  
   
***    
   
Sebastian is dozing when he hears the light rapping on his door. Coming awake in an instant, he leaps up from the bed, tripping over his previously discarded jeans as he practically runs to answer it. Peering through the spyhole, his breath hitches; Alan is standing there, hands braced against each side of the doorframe, head bowed. As Seb continues to stare at him through the tiny hole, Alan raises his head and looks straight at him, sensing his presence. He licks his lips slowly, his wet, pink tongue darting out to moisten the soft flesh. Sebastian’s legs start to tremble at the sight.  
   
Struggling with the latch he flings open the door. Before he’s even had a chance to say hello, Alan sweeps him into the room, throwing the door closed behind him and pressing Seb against it as he takes his mouth in an all encompassing, plundering kiss.  
   
Sebastian’s fingers tangle in his hair, pulling and tugging at the longer strands as they tilt their heads first one then the other way, trying to get even closer. They trade hot, open-mouthed kisses, desperately making up for lost time. Alan wedges his knee between Seb’s legs, pinning him even more forcefully to the wall, and rubs it against him, eliciting a high-pitched moan of sheer want from the younger man.  
   
With great effort Seb pulls back, hitting his head on the door as he struggles to catch his breath. His hands are still buried in Alan’s hair and he uses them to pull Alan’s lips from where they’re nipping and sucking at his neck, leaving a patchwork of possessive bruises that Seb will have to find an excuse for in the morning. But right now, in this moment, they’re perfect. His marks of ownership.  
   
“I wasn’t sure you would come,” he says breathlessly, eyes dark and glittering in the low light from the lamp.  
   
Alan chuckles briefly, his hands still holding Sebastian’s slender hips tight against the door. He presses his knee even closer, hips following as he presses their bodies fully together. “Of course,” he says simply. “And now you’re going to make sure I do.”  
   
With a quickness that belies his age, Alan spins them around, walking Sebastian backwards till his knees hit the edge of the mattress. He shoves him down with a single hand to his shoulder and holds him there with a mere gesture. Seb is watching him, lips parted to draw in much needed oxygen, eyes dark and needy, and fixed on Alan’s busy fingers, which are steadily, and ever so slowly, unbuttoning his shirt. He whimpers, muscles flexing from the effort of keeping still.  
   
Finished with his task, Alan grins at the sound, dropping the now superfluous clothing to the floor as he drags his fingertip lightly over Seb’s lips. “Shhh, not so fast Champ.”  
   
Seb flushes. He’s not used to his title being used against him. His eyes flash and he starts to reach for Alan’s waistband. But again, faster than was thought possible, Alan has his wrists caught in a tight hold. He bends over, forcing Seb onto his back, pushing him firmly into the mattress and crawling over him till his mouth is hovering just inches above Seb’s own.  
   
“I said, not so fast,” he murmurs, his voice liquid silk in Sebastian’s ear. He grins wickedly at Seb’s full body shiver and presses down more firmly on his wrists. “Are you going to behave now, Sebi?” He uses the nickname he knows will make Seb’s blood boil, wanting him to fight back. He wants it to be like last time, but so much more.  
   
Sebastian growls and bucks his hips, using his well-trained muscles to unseat the older man. They wrestle; Seb’s youth and anger more than a match for Alan’s occasional-tennis-match fitness. Seb finally gains the upper hand, rolling them over so he is on top, straddling Alan’s thighs. Alan barely has time to take a much needed breath before Seb is slithering backwards off the bed. He lands on his knees with a thump, hands scrabbling at Alan’s jeans. He has them open and off in seconds.  
   
He pauses, and Alan takes the opportunity to catch his eye. They’re wide and dark, and glittering with lust, as he licks his lips, surveying his hard-fought prize. He reaches out, almost tentatively, and wraps a hand around Alan’s impressive length. He glances up, running a hand over Alan’s stomach and smiles as his prey shivers and his eyes flutter shut. “I’ve been wanting to do this for some time,” he says, before leaning forward and swallowing Alan whole.  
   
It takes all of Alan’s willpower not to arch up from the bed and thrust himself even deeper into Sebastian’s warm, wet mouth. He can already feel his throat muscles massaging the head of his cock, and he’s still has enough control of his senses to not want to make this uncomfortable for his young lover. He wants him to want to do it again.  
   
He settles for pushing himself up onto his elbows, a much better vantage point to watch his cock disappearing between the thick pink lips. A guttural groan escapes his chest as Seb hums, eyes closed tight as he works Alan’s length with his tongue. Fingers skitter up the inside of his thigh, lightly stroking.  
   
Arousal spiking suddenly, Alan grabs Sebastian by the hair and forcibly pulls him off, not wanting the night to end prematurely. Sebastian chuckles, wiping at his mouth. “Something wrong, old man?”  
   
Alan tugs his hair in punishment for his cheek, grinning at the slight wince of pain from the younger man. “Pretty as your mouth is, I can think of somewhere else I’d rather come.”  
   
Seb shivers at his tone, blue eyes darkening. Alan gestures for him to get off his knees, and without a word, he crawls onto the bed, lying back against the pillows and waiting for Alan’s next move. His chest rises and falls rapidly, panting barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears. He feels like he’s the one naked, on display,  _vulnerable_ , despite Alan being unclothed while his modesty is still intact. So to speak.  
   
Alan regards him with a predatory look. The open innocence of Sebastian is breathtaking; he truly has no idea of his own beauty, something Alan is keenly aware of in light of his own imperfections. He turns fully to face the German, hunger replaced by something that makes his heart ache in his chest. He trails a slightly trembling hand over Seb’s calf, the muscle tensing beneath his touch, and dips his head, unable to make eye contact. His fingers never stop stroking the smooth skin.  
   
After a while, Sebastian, never one to be able to sit still and silent for long, reaches for him, curling a strand of hair around his finger and tugging gently till Alan looks at him from beneath his eyelashes. He flashes him a bright smile, one Alan can’t help but return. “Sorry, I’m being silly aren’t I?”  
   
“For sure,” Seb replies, eyes twinkling as Alan chuckles at the familiar phrase, one oft heard during Seb’s many interviews.  
   
“Obviously,” Alan says, using his other over-employed phrase to mock him. He shifts until he is hovering over the younger man, pinning his wrists to the pillow on either side of his head as Sebastian swats at him in playful annoyance.  
   
“Shut up and fuck me,” Seb huffs, wrapping a leg around Alan’s hip and rubbing suggestively. The heat of his cock burns through the thin cotton of his boxers, pressed tight against Alan’s hip.  
   
Alan lowers his head and begins to nip a slow path along Sebastian’s neck, paying particular attention to his sensitive earlobes. The intensity and passion of before returns, and Alan can feel Seb struggling to suppress tiny moans and groans, his toes curling into the small of Alan’s back.  
   
“Not everything is a race, Sebastian,” Alan purrs in his ear.  
   
Seb shudders beneath him, and Alan lifts his head just enough to see his white teeth buried in his lower lip, deep enough to cause blood to come rushing to stain it a deep pink, but not so far as to spill any of the precious liquid. Unable to restrain himself, Alan takes the thick flesh between his own lips, kissing him so gently. Seb immediately opens his mouth to him, allowing Alan’s tongue to sweep inside, turning the kiss deep and desperate.  
   
He pulls back, gasping for breath, and notices the red, raw-looking skin surrounding Seb’s mouth. His hand automatically goes to his face, the newly grown beard and moustache, and he grimaces. “Sorry-”  
   
Seb leans up and catches his bottom lip between his teeth, tugging him down into another kiss that leaves them breathless. Alan’s hand releases one of Sebastian’s wrists and wanders downwards, stroking any and all exposed skin he finds. He’s just at the waistband of the last remaining barrier between their bodies, when Seb pulls back, free hand cupping his chin. He rubs his thumb over the rough hair and grins. “It’s quite sexy,” he says, turning serious. “What are you  _die Tracht_   _davor_  behind it?”  
   
Alan blinks, his lust-fogged brain taking a moment to process Seb’s broken English. “I’m not hiding anything. I just haven’t shaved. Much like yourself.” He strokes a finger over Seb’s stubble.  
   
“Mine is laziness,” Seb replies. “Yours is too perfect to be accidental.”  
   
He fixes Alan with a firm, calm stare, one completely at odds with his foot rubbing insistent circles over Alan’s arse. He realises he’s not going to get away with being evasive, and sighs deeply. “It covers up the fat cheeks. Too much wine over the years.” He tries to laugh it off, but Sebastian has other ideas.  
   
Seb pulls his other wrist free, and frames Alan’s face in his hands, making him look straight into his eyes. “You’re perfect,” he says, expression brooking no argument. His eyes make an intent study of his older lover, and soften gently. “Ich liebe...” He breaks off, switching back to English so Alan won’t mistake what he says. “I love everything about those cheeks; the little creases here-” He strokes them. “From when you smile. I love these cheekbones, I love those stunning blue eyes, I love this nose, that chin.” His fingers skitter over every feature he names, coming to rest at the corners of Alan’s mouth, which is opened in a perfect ‘O’ of pleased surprise. “This mouth...” Seb trails off with a wicked grin.  
   
Alan shakes his head, leaning down to press that mouth against Seb’s also rather perfect one. He may never really believe the words Seb has just said –they’re everything he would say about Seb himself- but he appreciates the attempt to bolster his confidence.  
   
Seb moans into the kiss, making a point to rub his cheek against Alan’s beard. He lets go of Alan’s face as their tongues entwine, fingernails scratching down along Alan’s back and digging in, forcing their groins together.  
   
Groaning loudly, Alan pulls away long enough to growl. “Right, those are coming off, right now.” He sits back on his heels and tugs the offending underwear down Sebastian’s legs and off, flinging them somewhere over his shoulder. Seb giggles turn into a loud moan of pleasure as Alan slides back down over him, bare skin finally meeting bare skin.  
   
“Please,” he gasps. “Bitte!”  
   
Alan grinds against him harder, and the heat between them begins to grow, a fine sheen of sweat covering both their bodies. He manages to lift his hand from where it’s been clutching at Seb’s shoulder, and raises it to his mouth, sliding his fingers inside and coating them with saliva. Seb throws his head back when he feels the wet digits bump against his entrance. He instinctively spreads his legs wider, arching his back as Alan slips one finger inside.  
   
“Fuck,” Alan breathes. This is so much better than last time. Last time with its desperation, and the threat of discovery –they hadn’t had the chance to savour their intimacy, the closeness that had been so surprising in its swiftness. They’d had no time.  
   
Now though, they had all the time in the world. And Alan was determined to make full use of it.  
   
When Sebastian whimpers, and pushes down on his finger, Alan hushes him with a soft kiss. He curls his finger, stroking Seb from inside, and he knows he’s hit the right spot when Seb arches up with a long, loud moan. Only then does he add a second, slowly working Sebastian into a frenzy. The young German is in constant motion, limbs twitching, head rolling from side to side, half-formed words that could have been in a handful of languages spilling from his wide open mouth between the near constant moans of pleasure.  
   
Alan takes pity when he hears Seb’s breath hitch in a quiet sob. He quietens him with a delicate kiss, and slips off the bed, grabbing his discarded trousers and fishing the condom packet out of the pocket. He’s back on the bed almost before Seb misses him, ripping open the foil and sliding the rubber over his throbbing cock. He smiles in remembrance as he spits into his palm, rubbing the moisture into his length and lining himself up with Sebastian’s entrance.  
   
Seb groans his name as he pushes inside. The pure molten  _want_  in his voice is enough to give Alan shivers up his spine, as he takes Sebastian’s mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing the loud moan he emits as Alan stats to thrust in earnest. He alternates between long, slow, deep motions, with matching kisses, and short, sharp jabs paired with nips and bites at the dark pink lips of the man beneath him.  
   
Neither of them are going to last long. Sebastian opens his eyes, glazed over and watery, as a drop of sweat falls from Alan’s forehead to land in the corner of his open mouth. He collects it with the tip of his tongue, eyes sharpening for a second before he jerks as Alan wraps a hand around his neglected cock. That’s all it takes to send him tumbling over the edge, his hot seed shooting up and over his chest and stomach, a single drop hitting his cheek.  
   
The clenching of Seb’s muscles around Alan brings him ever closer. Alan leans down to lick the drop of come from Sebastian’s cheek, the salty sweetness suffusing his mouth and sending sharp stabs of heat through his body. They gather at the base of his cock, and he comes with a roar, collapsing on Sebastian’s heaving chest.  
   
They lie there spent, and Seb finally finds the strength to wrap his arms around Alan’s shoulders, holding his close. Alan takes a minute to catch his breath and gather his wits, coming to with Seb pressing delicate kisses to his collarbone. He rolls off the smaller man, lying on his side and pulling Seb with him, so they’re both entwined.  There’s no need for either of them to say anything.  
   
The sun is beginning to spill under the curtains when Alan stirs. He opens his eyes, smiling softly at Seb’s sleeping face and the messy hair above it. Sleepy blue eyes crack open to peer at him, and Seb rolls onto his back and stretches. “Hey.”  
   
Alan chuckles quietly. “Morning.”  
   
Sebastian sits up, sheet falling to his waist and revealing a myriad of purple and red blotches that Alan can’t help but feel proud of. Seb notices his stare and blushes, looking down at his chest. “How am I supposed to explain that to Tommi?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.  
   
“Don’t,” Alan replies simply, propping his head up with his elbow.  
   
Seb shakes his head but smiles. Tommi wouldn’t say a word, he knows that.  Besides he already knows all about Alan, there’s nothing in his life that his trainer doesn’t know about. Glancing over at the clock on the bedside table, Seb grimaces. “Six am?”  
   
“Sorry about that,” Alan says, sitting up and swinging his legs out of the bed. “I have to get back to my room though, before I’m missed.”  
   
Seb nods in understanding. “Will I see you again before you go?”  
   
Alan pulls his trousers on before he answers, slipping his shirt over his shoulders. “We’ll be at your post-race party, but...”  
   
“...But there’ll be hundreds of people there.” Seb finishes. “Ok well, this time-” He stands and goes to the desk in the corner of the room, pulling out a pad of paper and scribbling something on it. “-Here. My number. Maybe it won’t be six months till I see you again?”  
   
Alan smiles at his sudden shyness and steps close to him to take the proffered piece of paper. “Definitely. I bet you’ll already be back-to-back Champion when I see you next.”  
   
“Don’t say that,” Seb says, his lips hovering mere millimetres away from Alan’s own. “Not yet.”  
   
Alan closes the distance, their eyes slipping closed as they share their last embrace. He reluctantly pulls away, rubbing his thumb over Sebastian’s bruised lips, and smiling at him. “Ok. Win today first, yeah?”  
   
“That’s the plan,” Seb grins. “I’ll see you at the party anyway.”  
   
Nodding, Alan opens the door and leaves, closing it softly behind him. He makes it back to his own room without meeting anyone, and slips off his clothes. He hesitates before he slides under the sheets next to Britt. Shaking his head, he steps back and sits heavily on the chair in the corner instead. It’s feels like betrayal. He can’t get into bed with her after spending the night with Sebastian. It’s not right, he can’t do that to... Seb? He realises with a jolt that instead of feeling bad for cheating on Britt, like he should, he’s worried more about hurting Sebastian’s feelings.  
   
Alan looks at the sleeping woman in the bed. It isn’t fair, what he’s doing. She doesn’t deserve it, to be second best to a man that Alan will only ever see once a year, in secret. If that.  
   
He knows what he needs to do.  
   
Quietly he stands and walks over to the balcony door, sliding it open and stepping out into the cool air. He shuts it softly behind him, leaving it open a crack so Britt will see where he is when she wakes.  
   
He’s only out there an hour or so when he hears the low swoosh of the door as Britt slides it open. “There you are,” she says, stepping up behind him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She drops a kiss on his shoulder. “Cold in there without you.”  
   
“Sorry love,” Alan replies absentmindedly. Shaking his head to clear it, he turns to her, expression serious. “Sit down love, I think we need to talk.”  
   
***    
   
“Dad, he’s going to win, right? Right?” Stan gazes up at Alan, eyes wide and panicked as they watched Sebastian’s rivals eat into his lead from the back of the Red Bull Racing garage.  
   
Alan squeezes his shoulder and smiles in what he hopes is a confident manner. “I hope so.”  
   
He turns his attention back to the small screens, seeing the silver McLaren and red Ferrari close in, their tyres in much better condition after Seb’s pit mix-up earlier in the race. Only a dozen laps to go. Hiding his hands behind his back, he crosses his fingers.  
   
A few laps later and it appears his luck is in. If a crash can ever be considered luck. He watches with his heart in his mouth, Stan nearly shrieking beside him, as Sebastian threads his way through the debris and ruined cars of several backmarkers by mere inches. He breathes a huge sigh of relief as Seb makes it through safely. “That was a bit too close for comfort,” he says, rubbing his eyes.  He can almost feel a few more hairs turning grey.  
   
The red flag is quickly brought out, bringing the race to a stop, with all remaining cars lining up on the grid. Alan and Stan watch with interest as the mechanics in the previously serene garage leap into action. Making their way out onto the grid, they immediately change Sebastian’s badly worn tyres for fresh, new rubber.  When the race is restarted, all evidence of the crash swiftly removed from the track by the marshals, Seb disappears into a clear lead.  
   
Sebastian crosses the line 5 laps later and Alan can’t help but laugh loudly as he listens to the whooping over the team radio, the German clearly absolutely delighted to win at the historic track. Stan is leaping around the tiny room, while even Paris –bored out of her mind now the celebs aren’t around- manages a smile and brief clap.  
   
There’s chaos then, and Alan decides it would be best to just head straight for the ‘floater home’ as the Red Bull hospitality area is known in Monaco. Sebastian would find them eventually, and there really isn’t anything for them to do while he’s busy spraying champagne in people’s faces.  
   
The atmosphere on the barge is no less electric than down at the podium when they eventually get there. There must be a thousand people down there, all clamouring for a glimpse of the man who looks set to rewrite every single page of the Formula One history books. Alan’s heart swells with pride as he gratefully accepts a glass of champagne and sits down in front of one of the TV screens showing the podium ceremony. He raises his glass in toast as Sebastian accepts his trophy from the Prince, and settles in to watch the BBC feed.  
   
“Dad! Dad!”  
   
He looks over his shoulder as Stan screeches to a halt beside him. “Are you ok?”  
   
Stan nods excitedly. “Can we go up to the deck?  _Please_? Everyone’s up there at the pool, all the team.”  
   
“Sure, why not?” Alan agrees, getting up. He figures the first place Seb will go once he’s done with all his post-race interviews and press commitments is to his team. He’ll want to thank each of them personally, as he always does. Even though he’s already done so in the interview Alan has just finished watching. Such a team player.  
   
His knee creaks as he stands and he rubs at it with an annoyed grimace. He doesn’t want to feel old, not today. Not when Sebastian is near, Sebastian who makes him feel so young again, so full of life.  
   
Stan threads his fingers through Alan’s much larger ones and tugs him out towards the stairs. A brief commotion ahead of them signals the arrival of the BBC team, and Alan doesn’t bother trying to stifle the smile. There’s going to be fireworks.  
   
Alan settles himself in a relatively quiet corner of the roof-top terrace. He tries to count the number of photographers and TV crew that are there, but quickly gives it up as an impossibility. Leaning back against the railing, he tilts his head back and basks in the sun, letting the inevitable dance music wash over him, content to wait as long as needs be for Sebastian to arrive.  
   
Half an hour, and two more glasses of champagne, later, a loud cheer signals his wait is over. He watches Seb emerge through the throng of people, straight into the arms of his team; Christian, Adrian, his mechanics, engineers, even the girls that serve the drinks. Everyone gets a hug. They settle into their positions for the traditional team photo, and all hell breaks loose.  
   
Alan’s not quite sure who the first person into the pool is, but he suspects it’s Sebastian. He’s thankful for his dark sunglasses, which hide the darkening of his irises as he watches Seb dart around the deck, dripping wet, and manhandling various people into the water. His race-suit clings in just the right way to tantalise and tease.  
   
It’s when Sebastian is wiping his face clear of the mixture of pool water and sprayed champagne that he catches sight of Alan. His grin widens and Alan raises his glass to him from across the pool. In the moment he’s distracted, Sebastian is grabbed for another interview, but, perhaps in revenge for ruining his staring contest, Sebastian turns the tables, picking the man up and throwing them both into the pool. A roar goes up from the crowd, everyone thoroughly enjoying the spectacle.  
   
Seb ends up in the water a further dozen times at least, and after a while Alan loses sight of him. He’s busy craning his head to try find him, all the while trying to hide what it is he’s doing from the swiftly dwindling crowd, when Paris suddenly appears at his side.  
   
“Dad? Can we talk for a minute?”  
   
“Sure sweetheart, what’s up? Alan replies, removing his sunglasses and turning to face his daughter.  
   
“Why did Britt take off so suddenly?” She asks.  
   
Ah. He’d been wondering why that question hadn’t been asked yet, and the tone in Paris’s voice makes it clear she already knows the answer.  
   
“We... decided to separate,” he answers finally, hoping she’ll leave it at that.  
   
“Because there’s someone else?”  
   
Alan swears internally, wishing for a second that his daughter wasn’t quite so observant. He knows there’s no point in lying to her, she can always tell anyway. “Yes.”  
   
She nods and remains quiet for a moment. Her eyes dart to something behind him and a light of sudden realisation floods her eyes. “I’m going to take Stan back to the hotel,” she says suddenly, turning and grabbing her brother's hand and leading him towards the stairs.  
   
Taken aback at their abrupt departure, Alan is just about to follow when he feels wet warmth press up against his back.  
   
“Fancy a swim?”  
   
The joy in the soft German accent is obvious, and he spins around to meet dazzling blue eyes, instantly forgetting the strange encounter.  
   
“Sebastian! Congratulations!”  
   
“Danke,” Seb smiles widely. “You’re enjoying the party?”  
   
Alan chuckles. “I’m enjoying staying dry.”  
   
Seb purses his lips, a picture perfect pout beneath twinkling eyes. “That’s a shame,” he says nonchalantly. And before Alan has a chance to reply he finds himself bodily lifted by the slight German.  
   
“No! Sebastian, no! No, no, no, no, no! Agh!”  
   
The water is colder than he expected and he surfaces with a gasp. He splashes about trying to find his abductor, eventually locating him by the sound of his hysterical laughter. “You little brat!”  
   
Sebastian covers his face with his hands as he struggles to contain his howls of laughter. Alan seizes his opportunity, lunging for him and shoving him under the water. He holds him there for a few moments, skilfully avoiding Seb’s flailing limbs, before letting him up for air. He only allows him a single breath before pushing him back down again.  
   
He’s getting into it now, forgetting the people all around them. There’s only team personnel and special guests left there now, the rest having been shepherded out, but in his mind, all there is right in that moment, is him and Sebastian.  
   
He supposes later that that’s why, when Seb finally manages to drag him underneath the water with him, he pulls him close and kisses him. He also supposes that Seb is thinking the exact same thing, and that’s why he kisses him back.  
   
They surface still entwined, Seb’s fingers tangled in his hair, and his arm looped firmly around Seb’s shoulders, holding their bodies tight together. It takes a moment for the silence to penetrate into their private little world.  
   
Alan is the one to pull away first, forcefully removing Sebastian’s grip on him and holding him at arm’s length. Seb takes a second or two to realise why, the confusion and bewilderment as to why Alan didn’t want him, nearly snapping Alan’s resolve to not just throw him over his shoulder and sprint back to his hotel room.  
   
“Scheiße,” Seb says softly, floating back a few inches.  
   
Alan licks his lips. “Yeah.”  
   
Christian is the first to make a move towards them. Alan braces himself, for what exactly he’s not sure, but Christian merely holds out a hand to help him out of the water. He doesn’t immediately let go, instead reaching out to squeeze Alan’s shoulder. It’s comforting, and Alan relaxes as he smiles.  
   
“Thanks.”  
   
“Don’t worry about it,” Christian says, smile widening into a grin. “You’d be surprised how un-secretive the pair of you were.”  
   
Alan blinks and glances over to Sebastian, catching him watching him out of the corner of his eye. He’s speaking to his father, and Adrian, the chief designer of the team, but he spares Alan a reassuring wink.  
   
Turning back to Christian, Alan chuckles. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. We are a bit crap, aren’t we?”  
   
“Definitely. Now go, I think Seb still has some celebrating left in him.”  
   
Alan shakes his head with a wry grin and turns to see Sebastian walking towards him, smile as wide as Alan’s ever seen it. And he knows they’ll be ok.  
   
***    
   
 **West Sussex. October 19 th, 2011.**  
   
The sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel driveway catches Alan’s attention as he’s in the middle of drying some dishes. He’s already halfway to the door when the bell rings, and he stops in the middle of the hall, smile widening on his face as he sees the familiar outline through the frosted glass.  
   
He flings open the door and in an instant finds himself with an armful of giggling German. “Alan!”  
   
“Seb!” He wraps his arms tight around him, holding him close and burying his nose in the short dark blonde hair.  
   
“I’ve missed you,” Seb mumbles into his chest.  
   
“Me too,” Alan smiles as they pull apart. “I thought you were busy at the factory today? Shouldn’t you be there celebrating with your team?”  
   
“I wanted to celebrate with you.” Seb replies simply.  
   
Alan blushes lightly, taking a step back to look at Sebastian fully. His Sebastian. His newly crowned back-to-back double World Champion. His heart is almost bursting with pride.  
   
“C’mere,” He says softly, and Seb slips easily back into his arms, settling there like it’s the one place he belongs most. Alan rests his cheek on the top of his head, twisting slightly to press a kiss to his temple. “I’m so proud of you.”  
   
Seb lifts his head, blue eyes sparkling with happiness. It’s been almost three weeks since they last saw one another, nothing like the nine months of before. After their unplanned ‘outing’ in Monte Carlo –which for some inexplicable reason hadn’t made it into the papers- they’d managed to meet up quite a few times. It usually coincided with Sebastian’s regular trips to Milton Keynes to the team factory, and when Alan not-so-coincidentally, happened to be in the area when a grand prix was on.  
   
Alan feels heat pool in the bottom of his stomach as the memory of what happened in Belgium wanders through his mind, they’d made good use of their unofficial anniversary, returning to the scene of the original crime.  
   
He’s brought back to the present by Sebastian insistently nipping at the soft flesh of his throat, and tugging on his hand. Chuckling quietly, he stops walking. Seb walks straight into him, and Alan uses the opportunity to sweep him into a deep kiss. Seb groans deep in his throat, his tongue eagerly meeting Alan’s for their now familiar dance for dominance.  
   
Pulling back, Alan slaps him lightly on the arse and nods his head in the direction of the stairs. Sebastian’s eyes light up with a devilish gleam and he bounds towards them. He stops with a hand on the banister and his foot already on the second step.  
   
He tilts his head in question at Alan’s lack of movement to follow him. “You are coming, no?”  
   
“Course I am,” Alan replies, dragging his eyes away from Seb’s behind, prettily encased in tight black jeans. He turns and walks away, and Seb squeaks. Looking back at him over his shoulder from the kitchen doorway, Alan answers the unasked question with a sly wink.  
   
“The World Champion can’t celebrate without some champagne, now can he?”  
 

**Author's Note:**

> It's been fun looking back at these fics after so long. I hope everyone is in character as much as I thought they were way back when I wrote them, and I hope if you've enjoyed reading them you'll leave a little comment.
> 
> Thanks so much, and Merry Christmas xx


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